


Another September

by kkingofthebeach



Series: Boarding School [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, First Kiss, First Time, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 23:38:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkingofthebeach/pseuds/kkingofthebeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary teaches at an overpriced, competitive boarding school, meaning Sam and Dean can attend with a huge cut to the fees. Dean is ready for senior year - thinking it'll be just more of the same. But the arrival of Castiel, the somewhat mysterious new kid, has things changing around the dorm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on tumblr for bee who asked for a boarding au [(sort of promt here)](http://dnwinchester.tumblr.com/post/39489496986/between2devils-replied-to-your-post-i-go-to) and it turned into a thing that people seem to like?

Dean isn’t exactly stoked to return to school after the summer, and you can hardly blame him after almost three months of blissfully doing _nothing_. But September has begun and here he is, lugging suitcases and boxes into the dorm once again. His mom follows him to his new room and stays until everything has been unpacked from the car, but unlike past years she doesn’t stay to make Dean’s bed and try to put everything away, because Sam is here too. There are various perks to having a parent who is a member of the faculty, and going to an overpriced school – albeit a _very_ good one – is one of them. So while Dean tries to muster up the energy to actually unpack his stuff, Sam is beginning his high school career in the next dorm over, and Dean doesn’t haven’t the heart to warn him that freshmen usually end up with bunk beds – he thinks it might be character building for him in the long run. 

Dean’s roommate is going to be Victor, and he’s glad it’s somebody he’s already friends with rather than one of the newbies. There are only a handful of them – wandering around like the puppies that lost the pack – but Dean doesn’t take a huge interest in any of them, he’s not in the mood for being perky and optimistic about the coming school year. He thinks about heading over to one of the girls’ dorms to drop in on Jo, but he’s fairly sure the resident staff won’t be allowing visitors while people are still arriving. So Dean pushes all his stuff over to his side of the room and tries not to feel guilty as he starts off for the common room, expecting to find Ash already hogging the pool table.

He doesn’t quite make it there though, because when he reaches the stairs one of the newbies is standing there with boxes in his arms that are stacked so high that they reach his nose. He peers over the top of them to look at Dean, who expects a frantic terror in the guy’s eyes but only finds a calm blankness. Dean tries to glance around him but he can’t see anybody else hovering on the stairs or accompanying the newbie, and he can’t help but feel a little bad. He’s probably never been to boarding school before and his parents have just dumped him here without even staying to make sure he gets settled. 

“You okay there?” Dean asks, and he’s mostly hoping that the guy will say yes because he wants to go downstairs and get rid of the pity-kindness that that’s already bubbling up inside of him. 

“I’m fine.” His voice is steady but Dean doesn’t believe him one bit. There’s no awkward laughter or twitchy smile and he doesn’t move out of Dean’s way, he just stands there.

“Do you at least know where your room is?” Dean must be feeling extra charitable today because the guy clearly isn’t asking for any help, but Dean plans on pushing until he cracks and admits he has no idea what he’s doing.

 “Um--” His key is sitting atop the boxes and Dean grabs it, just raising his eyebrows at the guy’s puzzled expression.

“So what room number is it?”

 “B-7.” 

Dean nods and steps in front of him, leading the way. B-7 is only a few doors down from his own room, and he wants to reassure him that it’ll be fine and he won’t be living in a crevice, but it’s Dean’s first time in this hall too, so it’s anyone’s best guess. 

It turns out that he’s worrying about nothing though, because he after jiggling the key around in the stiff lock he opens the door and there’s only one bed pushed against the wall of a fairly spacious room. He’s at the end of the hall too, so there’s a big window that fills the entire area with light and it’s contrastingly airy compared to Dean’s room. 

“You’re lucky you got a single room.” Dean lies. If it had been someone else it might have been lucky, but when you’re new it’s easier to get a hold on everything if you have a roommate to show you the ropes or go through it with you. There’s no smile on the guy’s face though, and he doesn’t want to dampen his spirits any more than they already are.

The boy peers around cautiously before putting his boxes in the middle of the floor. “Thanks for the help.” He moves to sit on the bare mattress, and even with his back straight as a board he manages to look deflated. Dean thinks this is his cue to leave, but his body has other ideas and his feet are planted to the floor and he just feels so _guilty_.

“I’m Dean, by the way.” He shoves his hands in his pockets when the guy looks up and meets his eye, an uncertainty etched in his features. 

“Castiel.” 

Dean’s suspicions are confirmed. _Castiel_ – with a name like that he has be one of those kids who’s come straight out of private school back home because Mommy and Daddy didn’t want the hassle anymore. He knows the type; he’s come across his fair share of them in this dorm alone. Castiel will be right at home with the likes of Michael and Raphael, they’re the people he’ll want to befriending come tomorrow. 

Dean really does want to cut all ties now and back out of that bedroom, or at least he thinks he does. But, well, Castiel seems different and he can’t put his finger on why. Maybe it’s because he’s reserved and still sitting there in a stony silence, or because he still hasn’t asked Dean who the cool guys are and complained about how awful this place is compared to his home. And he doesn’t think it’s because Castiel is by any means shy either: he doesn’t fidget or find things to do while Dean flat-out stares at him, he just keeps his jaw tight and looks forward.

“Are you parents here?” This grabs Castiel’s attention, and he’s looking up at Dean again with a frown this time, as if it’s a stupid question or it’s a sore subject. 

“They couldn’t come – they’re busy with work.” He’s a little quiet, but Dean can sense the frustration that leaks into his voice; he’s upset that they’re not here with him right now, but he won’t say it. 

“Oh that’s – okay then – do you need help with the rest of your stuff?” The offer is out of his mouth before he can stop it, but Castiel is already frowning again and nodding before Dean can process what he’s done. 

There’s not much left, just two suitcases that they carry between them and lug into Castiel’s room. Dean finds himself listing all the basics to Castiel as they ascend the stairs and go back down the hall, telling him when the best time to go to dinner is and which showers work the best and which dorm leaders will have your ass if they find you sneaking around at 3AM on a school night. Dean likes this though, it’s nice to feel useful and to have someone look to him for guidance – he doesn’t get much of that when Sammy isn’t around. 

Cas is talking about his hometown and his parents as they unpack a box that is solely filled with books, and Dean tries to listen as he stacks each one on the shelves as neatly as he can. Castiel grew up in a remote house set away from anything, and he never sees a great deal of his parents because they’re successful lawyers and constantly busy with clients. He’s been through too many babysitters to remember, had live-in nannies sometimes too, but weirdly he doesn’t seem all too fazed by it. It’s almost as if he can hear Dean judging his family in his mind, and is trying to defend them without actually having much evidence to prove that they’re good parents. Dean listens anyway and holds back most of the snarky things he could say, _most_ of them, but then he hits a brick wall. 

He’s been going on as if he and Castiel are friends already, as if this is the start of something quite enjoyable that might make this year better than the last. But he’s reminded that Castiel won’t be his friend after this, by tomorrow he will have found his crowd and slipped in easily with all the rich kids and won’t give Dean another thought. It may be blunt, but Dean knows it to be true, and he’s not in the business of setting himself up for being ditched like some throwaway toy, so he says he needs to finish unpacking his own things and backs out of the room in a hurry. 

****

 It turns out that Castiel is also a senior and he shares physics with Dean. Up to this point Castiel had done exactly as Dean had expected, so when he sits down on Dean’s bench instead of Michael’s, he’s more than slightly confused. Dean is so hell-bent on working out what Castiel is doing next to him, that he doesn’t even realise Ash walk in and give him the stink-eye for not saving a place for him.

“Why are you sitting here?” Dean asks eventually, not being able to take it any longer. And he starts to worry about the way Castiel has him reigning in all these remarks and questions until he finally blurts something stupid out. 

“Oh, I didn’t’ realise somebody was sitting here--” and he reaches for his bag on the floor and moves to get up, but that’s not what Dean meant and he’s grabbed Castiel’s wrist and is dragging him back down before he walks across the room to Michael’s bench.

“No – nobody’s sitting here,” but Castiel is still craning his neck to decide which of the empty seats he should switch to. “Cas!”

His head whips around at this and he looks at Dean with acute curiosity, before Dean sees what could possibly be a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’ll stay here then.” And Dean isn’t sure why that’s so exciting to him; maybe it’s because he’s been hanging out with the same group of people for three years and Castiel is new and intriguing – or maybe it’s just because he chose Dean over Michael. Which Dean is still perplexed by because he saw Castiel having lunch at Michael’s table and they were all cooing over the fresh meat they’d been handed. 

Physics passes pleasantly, but it goes by in a blur similar to the one that Dean experienced in Cas’ room yesterday. He feels closer to Castiel than he should already, and he’s not really sure if they can constitute as friends yet or if he should be wary of how easy it is to be around Cas. So he does what he’d planned to do, and keeps his distance after that. Cas still sits next to him every time they have physics, but Dean doesn’t see him much at any other point in the day, unless he runs into him in the dorm kitchen or there’s a house meeting. 

Then Dean starts to notice that the reason he never sees Castiel around isn’t because he’s been adopted by the obnoxious, rich kids – it’s because he keeps to himself so much. It’s not as though he’s unpopular; anyone will talk to him and Dean hasn’t gotten wind of anybody bad-mouthing him, but he just doesn’t think Castiel has many friends – if any. Dean never sees him in any of the common rooms, and the times that he’s seen Cas at lunch he’s usually sitting by himself.

This leads Dean to decide that Cas probably won’t drop him anytime soon, so he makes the short walk to his room and knocks on the door before letting himself in. Cas is sitting at his desk and bent over a textbook with sheets of paper strewn everywhere. He’s wearing track shorts and an old t-shirt that’s sticking to his skin with sweat, and it occurs to Dean that Cas must have signed up for cross country, explaining why he drops off the face of the earth after school most days. 

“Dean?” He turns around in his chair and stares quizzically at Dean, his hair damp and a little flat compared its usual bedhead glory. Dean realises that he’s still hovering in the doorway, so steps inside and sits on the edge of Cas’ bed. 

“You’re a runner?” He asks, because somehow he feels as though it would be rude to open the conversation with _why don’t you have any friends._

Castiel nods and shifts his chair to face Dean. “I’ve always been fast I guess, and I find it calming.” He just shrugs, and waits expectantly for Dean to announce what he’d come here for. 

“So uh, how are you settling in?” Dean watches Castiel blink a few times before he subconsciously pouts ever so slightly as he thinks about it. 

“Fine, I guess.” He tilts his head and narrows his eyes, inspecting Dean with considerably more interest now. “You want to know who my friends are, don’t you?”

Dean prays that he isn’t blushing, but he can feel his cheeks and ears heating up because he sounds like a gossiping pre-teen _girl_ at a sleepover. So he tries to play it off with a laugh that comes out mechanic and forced. “Sure, who are you hanging out with?”

“Nobody, really.” Dean wonders how he can be so nonchalant about it – as if it he really couldn’t care less. And maybe Dean would accept that and move on, except he’s seen Cas when he thinks nobody is looking. Sometimes Dean will go to the library to print an essay off at the last minute, and he’ll catch a glimpse of Castiel huddled in a nook between shelves, curled in on himself as he creates this distance between him and the rest of the world. He does a good job of making it look like he doesn’t need anybody but his own company, but Dean doesn’t believe it for a minute. He knows it’s not real because he used the very same mask when he first came here, when he wasn’t used to being so far away from Sam for such a long time. Dean can see quite well just how lonely Cas is, and it resonates within him, itches in the back of his mind even when he’s thinking about anything _but_ Castiel. 

But just because he knows these things doesn’t mean he’s about to have a heart-to-heart with Cas about them. It would make things awkward for the both of them, and Dean’s not here to make some mushy speech about what Cas is holding back. So he just asks why instead. 

“I’ve never really been good at making new friends – my social skills are kind of dreadful.” Cas won’t even look at Dean now; he’s glaring at the floor and gives off the impression that he’s irritated with himself.  And Jesus Christ, Dean feels like he’s looking at a lost puppy that’s just been kicked, and yet again he gets a dose of word-vomit. 

“Well we’re friends, right?”

Castiel is frozen for a moment, his mouth parted in shock and his eyes wide. But then he breaks out into a smile and nods at Dean, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah – yeah I guess we are.”


	2. Chapter 2

Cas has never been drunk.

As his best friend, Dean feels it’s his duty to rectify this. He has it all planned out: Ash can get him the alcohol for Friday, and they just have to say they’re going into town for the evening and be back by curfew. Instead, they’re going to take the alcohol and go out into the vast amount of woodland on the school grounds. It’s only mid-October, so Dean figures it should still be warm enough for them to stay out there in the evening, and they’ll bring a couple of flashlights for when it gets dark.

Everything goes according to plan, except Ash comes to Dean with a bag that definitely does not contain a bottle of vodka – it’s a big bottle of cheap, white wine. He throws a strop for a minute, but considering it’s Cas’ first time he decides it will probably stretch far enough.

And it does. Cas hasn’t eaten much all day and it goes straight to his head, and Dean chugs it too quickly and finds himself swaying on the spot as he makes wild gestures as he speaks. Cas has flopped down into a pile of crunchy, dried leaves and is too tipsy even to keep up with his own arguments about philosophy. So Dean grabs the opportunity to dig a little deeper and get some insight into Cas’ weird mind.

“So, you see any girls you like yet?”

Cas sits up and gives Dean a sidelong glance, and there’s a pause where he thinks about what to say. Dean finds himself antsy in the silence, and he’s not sure why he’s anticipating Cas’ answer so much.

“Uh, I don’t know, I haven’t really looked…” At first Dean thinks Cas might be lying, probably assumes he’s saving himself from a night of Dean’s taunting. But the more Dean thinks about it, the truer it seems. The only girls Cas really spends any time with are Jo and Anna, and Dean has never witnessed anything more than platonic affection going on there.

“What about boys then?”

Cas’ cheeks go a little pink and he averts his eyes quickly, reaching for the bottle.

Bingo.

“Who is he?” Dean asks with a shit-eating grin, and Castiel chokes on the wine he’s determined to chug down. He swallows and looks at Dean hesitantly, but then he just shrugs and frowns.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s never going to happen.”

“Aw come on, Cas, a catch like you?” Dean wiggles his eyebrows at Cas and gets shoved over sideways in return.

“It’s fine - I don’t - whatever.” And Dean knows that Cas had been about to say something else, had almost let something slip that would give Dean too much information. Dean thinks of his next question as Cas goes to lie on his back again, and he knows that Cas is trying very hard to block him out.

“Are you a virgin?” Dean knows it’s blunt, but there’s never any point in tiptoeing around Cas, and it’s not the sort of thing that Dean thinks will offend him anyway.

Cas fidgets a little and bites down on his lip. “Why are we still talking about this?” And that’s all Dean needs to hear to know the answer is yes.

Even in the moonlight Dean can see Cas’ ears reddening, and he’s strangely exhilarated by the thought. Cas is so innocent in every sense, and it sends a thrill down Dean’s spine to think that he’s the one dragging Cas off course, maybe even corrupting him.

“Have you even kissed anyone?” He’s not teasing him in the slightest, Dean is just genuinely curious and itching to know. He wonders why that is - if this had been anybody else he would probably be taunting them until they punched him in the mouth.

“My parents don’t let me date, so it’s never been an issue…” Cas says quietly before trailing off, but Dean has already stopped listening to because _Cas has never been kissed._ And now he has his forearm slung over his face to try and disappear, but Dean can’t stop staring incredulously.

“You’re missing out, dude.” Dean’s head is spinning, but he’s ninety per cent sure it’s because of the cheap wine he drank so quickly, and not this new revelation.

Cas sighs and sits up again, his balance wobbling, as Dean’s face appears much closer to him than he’d expected. “What does it feel like – I mean – how, how do you--” he stops mid-sentence and blinks wide-eyed at Dean, as if he can’t quite believe what just came out of his mouth and is scared of what Dean will say.

He just laughs though, and pats Cas on the shoulder firmly. “It’s good, it’s really good. I don’t know – you just – it just happens, do what feels right.” Dean cringes the moment he says it; it sounds like such _bullshit,_ but he can’t articulate anything better.

“You are absolutely no help, at all.” Cas grumbles, and he almost looks irritated with Dean, which makes him want to push Cas straight back into that pile of leaves. He’s thinking about doing it too, when Cas’ expression changes to look putout, disappointed even, and Dean isn’t sure what to make of it. He’s never really had a best friend before, but he’s pretty sure the whole point is to help each other out and do whatever you can for them. So what he’s about to do – it’s because they’re friends, and because Dean is determined to be the greatest fucking friend Cas has ever had.

“Fuck it – we’re not twelve year old girls at a sleepover and I’m not gonna watch you practice on your hand.” Dean’s firm tone means business, and Cas retreats back a few centimetres in alarm. “You wanna know how to kiss?”

Castiel nods once.

Dean leans in and Cas is frozen in place, his lips parted as he watches Dean anxiously. Dean pauses when he’s a hair’s breadth away from Cas’ mouth; he’s giving him an opening to back away and say they’re not drunk enough for this, but Cas only licks his lips.

“What are you doing?” It’s barely a whisper, but Cas’ voice is still like gravel carving into the air.

“Shut up, Cas.” And then he’s pressing his mouth against Castiel’s and his lips are chapped and the aftertaste of that sickly wine is still on his breath but Dean can’t bring himself to stop. He wants to push against him harder and sink his teeth in, but he goes achingly slow to make sure Cas is absorbing every second of this.

Dean pulls on his lower lip, nipping lightly and licking over it before doing the same to the top. Cas is just so compliant about it, and it makes Dean want _more_. He opens Cas’ mouth up and lets his tongue curl alongside his, and the huff of air that Cas breathes out at the touch has Dean burning up. He winds a hand into Cas’ hair, snagging on bits of twigs and dried leaves as he tugs it between his fingers and uses the grip to pull Cas closer.

Cas moans softly in the back of his throat as Dean pulls harder and runs his tongue across the roof of his mouth, and his hands are on Dean’s thighs and pressing down more forcefully with every second that passes. Dean feels too hot and too lightheaded, lost in the feeling and unable to string a thought together. The blunt pressure of Cas’ fingernails has the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, and he’s not sure how much longer he can do this without his hands wandering to places that are definitely outside the friend-zone.

Dean pulls away, breathing heavily as he stares at Cas’ rumpled hair and slick lips. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say now – that was _so_ far from a friendly kiss; the fact that he’s half-hard is enough to prove that. But instead of telling Cas he’s thinking about how good he would look right now in significantly less clothing, he just clears his throat and checks his watch.

“We should, uh, head back. We haven’t got long until curfew.” Cas is staring at him like he can’t quite believe what just happened, but he nods all the same.

They bury the empty wine bottle to dispose of at another time, and stumble back to the dorm in silence. Neither of them mentions the fact that they’re definitely walking closer together than usual, or that their hands keep brushing. Dean signs both of them in with a wobbly signature in the book while Cas goes ahead, and he meets him a few minutes later in Cas’ room.

“I could bring my mattress in here.” Dean offers, because he doesn’t want to end up lying awake in bed, counting the marks on the ceiling as he thinks about the touch of Castiel’s lips and the taste of his mouth.

“Victor’s already gone to bed – he has that big football game tomorrow. You’ll just wake him up and he’ll kill us both.” Cas doesn’t need to mention the fact that neither of them are in a state to drag the mattress from Dean’s bed down the hall, into his own room without doing themselves an injury.

Castiel steps out of his jeans and tries to pull off his shirt before he trips over himself, falling into the desk and muffling a groan of pain. Dean chuckles and helps lift him back to his feet, trying very hard not to look at the jut of Cas’ hipbones above the waistline of his briefs, or the narrowness of his waist. He’s definitely not looking at the outline of his cock, _definitely not looking._

“We can both fit in my bed – we can.” Cas says as soon as he regains balance, and he ignores Dean’s sceptical expression to change into pyjamas.

And _obviously_ two seventeen year old boys cannot fit into a single bed. They’re lying top-to-toe and Cas is squashed against the wall, while Dean is hanging off the side of the bed. Not to mention Cas’ stupid hamburger-patterned socks hovering in front of his face.

“Dude, get your feet away from me.” Dean complains, and Cas grumbles something about him just getting his ass the right way up if he wants to be comfortable. So Dean moves to lie down next to Cas with their backs pressed against one another, and he thinks it should be awkward but the warmth of another body only feels comforting, even if his leg is still draped over the edge. “This was such a bad idea.”

“ _All_ your ideas are bad.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Dean wakes up with cramp in every muscle and his mouth dry. He’s sprawled out on his back, still in Cas’ bed, and they’re not exactly sharing the space evenly. Cas is squashed up next to the wall and half-draped across Dean’s torso, his face resting in the space between Dean’s neck and shoulder. Cas’ fingers are loosely holding onto the fabric of Dean’s t-shirt, and he feels the warm puffs of Cas’ breathing against his skin. His arm is numb and trapped underneath Cas, his hand coming out just behind the small of Cas’ back. Dean tries to flex his fingers but they brush against Cas’ bare skin, where his shirt has risen up above the waistband of his pyjama pants. Dean presses his lips together, but doesn’t remove his fingers from where they’ve landed, he just tells himself that this is better than having the dead arm he did before. He doesn’t know how long he’s been lying there awake when he realises that he’s tracing little circles over Cas’ back, but he doesn’t want to get up quite yet, so he stays quiet and still.

“Hi,” Cas says, his voice muffled and tired. He doesn’t even lift his head, just does some minimal stretching of his limbs. Dean’s lets his hand fall limply back to the mattress.

“How’re you doing?” Dean asks, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about their close proximity in only his shirt and boxer-briefs. Cas doesn’t seem to care though, because all he does is look up briefly to scowl at Dean before burying his face into the crook of Dean’s neck again.

“Awful.” Cas punches Dean in the chest when he chokes out a laugh. “This is what death must feel like.” He yanks out the pillow from under Dean and presses it over his head.

“How much do you even remember about last night?” Dean asks, still a hint of mockery in his voice, but maybe a pinch of uncertainty too.

Cas pokes his head out from under the pillow slightly and cracks an eye open, still managing to make it a glare. “Everything.”

“Oh, so you, uh--” Dean wishes his throat didn’t sound so scratchy, and he knows he should just drop what he’s about to say, but it’s nagging at the back of his mind, “you remember that we kissed. Last night.”

Cas recoils slightly and pushes himself up to kneel by Dean’s shins. “Of course I remember.” He’s frowning and staring at Dean incredulously, and Dean almost thinks that Cas looks affronted. It’s shock though – he knows that it must just be that Cas is shocked about him bringing up, which means he has to backtrack.

“Right – good!” Dean swallows and sits up, but he ends up being close enough to bump foreheads with Castiel. “I mean, because now you can go after that guy you were talking about – blow his mind and everything.” The enthusiasm sounds forced, even to him, and Dean doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore.

Cas’ frown is gone now, replaced by a blank expression as he slouches a little. “Yeah, okay, sure.” He glances around the room, and then looks back at Dean, who is sure he imagined a flicker of disappointment in Cas’ eyes. “I’m going to shower.” And with that, he crawls over Dean and out of bed, grabbing a towel from the hook before silently slipping out.

***

They don’t bring the kiss up again for a week, and it’s the longest week Dean has faced in a long time.

He can’t explain the curiosity that he is riddled with, so fixated on finding out who this mystery boy is that Cas is interested in. It’s just that Cas doesn’t exactly hang out with a huge group of people, and Dean can’t imagine it being anybody in their immediate circle of friends. Cas doesn’t really engage with any of the guys that much anyway, he mostly sticks with Dean and Sam and the girls. So he assumes it’s just someone from class that Cas ogles, but Dean can’t figure it out.

It’s Saturday evening when Dean just outright asks. They’re the only two in the common room, and they’re in the middle of a game of Mario Cart on the Wii. Dean’s been trying to think of how to raise the subject for about fifteen minutes, and has consequently lost almost every race because he keeps looking over at Cas so much.

“So who is he?” Dean asks as nonchalant as he can, keeping his eyes on the television. Cas doesn’t even flinch.

“Who?”

“You know… you said you liked a guy. Who is it?” Dean wants to kick himself for being so goddamn interested, but he can’t help it. He keeps picturing what might happen if Cas were to get a boyfriend; Dean would see a lot less of him, that’s for sure. But he’d see other things too, like Cas bumping shoulders with someone else in the hall, rushing to sit in a different seat in their classes, Cas holding hands – Cas kissing someone else. And it’s not like he has the sole right Cas’ company: Dean knows that. But he’s so selfish with Cas, and he doesn’t want someone else to come before him. It had never been a problem before – he’d never even thought about it – but maybe that’s because Dean always knew that he was Cas’ best friend, and he didn’t like anybody half as much as. And suddenly Cas comes out with this, that there’s a guy he wants to give more to than he does Dean, and fuck if he will admit that he’s jealous.

“I told you already, it doesn’t matter,” Cas mumbles, his cheeks faintly colouring.

But it’s not good enough for Dean, and he pauses the game before turning around in the sofa to face Cas. “We’re best friends – and best friends are supposed to tell each other things. So, come on, just talk to me.”

Cas looks at him hesitantly as he fiddles with the controller to busy his hands. “I just – I don’t know – it’ll make things weird.”

“Dude, it’s not gonna make anything weird.”

“You really don’t know?” He breathes, and it’s quiet enough for Dean to think he’s talking to himself.

“Is this because it’s a guy, because I don’t care--” Dean doesn’t get to finish because Cas’ face is even redder now, his eyebrows drawn together in a scowl, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. He looks like he’s about to bash Dean’s head in.

“It’s because it’s you!” He snaps, shoving at Dean’s chest with a little too much force. Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to pick up his brain from the floor, but nothing is coming together in his head. Because he thinks he just heard Cas say it’s him – but he clearly misheard.

Cas’ face falls and he looks exhausted, not to mention worried. “I like you, Dean.” He turns away again and slumps into the corner of the sofa, staring hard at the wall in front of him. “I mean I didn’t know what it was – I’ve never really had feelings like that for someone, you know? And then you kissed me and I just, I thought--” Cas is running his mouth and speeding up as he tries to talk his way out of it, but Dean just scoots over and places a hand on his knee.

“Cas, stop.” He waits for Cas to look at him again, and his hand is still gently squeezing Cas’ knee. “It’s okay.”

They’re too close; Dean knows this. Cas looks at him with confusion, scrunching up his face in the way he always does, and Dean is hit by a rush of affection. Their faces aren’t that far apart from each other, and Dean can feel himself edging in a little closer as his eyes flicker to Cas’ mouth when he licks his lips. He’s trying to decide how much willpower it would take to pull away now, to move back to his side and tell Cas that they’re just friends. But he doesn’t want to. He wants to kiss Cas again, and he really doesn’t feel like talking himself out of it either.

Cas is the one to reach forward and bridge the gap, pressing his mouth to Dean’s in a hurry – as if the mix of fear and longing inside of him has pushed him off a precipice. Dean stifles a quiet noise in the back of his throat, because kissing Cas now is infinitely better than when they were drunk on shitty wine. He can feel how much Cas wants it; how he’s willing to give Dean everything he can as he opens his lips against Dean’s. And now he’s started, he can’t hold anything back. Dean is biting at Cas’ lip and licking into his mouth carefully, trying to shift into a better position. He lets Cas get one leg up on the sofa before pushing him down and moving into the space between his legs. He presses their bodies flush against one another and goes to town on Cas’ jaw and neck, scraping his teeth and sucking and leaving marks that are bound to darken and mottle his skin. Cas is making breathy little moans underneath Dean and tries to get his fingers on his skin, reaching under his shirt to run his hands across the span of his back.

Somewhere in a foggy part of his brain, Dean knows this is way too risky – they could get caught at literally any second. But he pushes the thought away when he returns to Cas’ mouth, getting caught up in the sound that he groans into his mouth as Dean tugs at his hair. The stutter in his breathing when their cocks brush is enough to bring him back to Earth though, because as much as Dean would like to take Cas apart on this sofa without stopping, he can’t ignore the fact that they’re making out in a communal area with raging hard-ons. He pulls back slightly from Cas, leaning their foreheads together as he takes a few deep breathes.

“We can’t do this here,” Dean whispers, and he drags his thumb across Cas’ bottom lip, slick and pink from so many nips. Cas just smiles though, and leans up to give Dean a quick, chaste kiss. “God, we’re idiots.”


End file.
